


Life Breaks Dee

by Nocturnal_Introvert



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Depression, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Marijuana, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal_Introvert/pseuds/Nocturnal_Introvert
Summary: When Dee has a bad night, she returns to some old habits. It takes Charlie to finally bring her back. (TW for self harm).





	Life Breaks Dee

Dee was on the floor of her bathroom, her eyes vacant and her face blank. She had been sitting here for quite some time. Her night had taken a bad turn fast. She brought home a man she met at a club, hoping for a casual one-night stand. But as soon as she got him back to her apartment she realized he saw her as nothing more than a slut. Normally, she wouldn't mind. On a normal night she would ignore it and fuck him anyway. Hell, she was kind of a slut anyway. But things took a turn for the worst. He was acting strange. At first, she chalked it up to him being drunk, but when he asked her how much it would cost for a blowjob, she had enough. Dee kicked him out, but not before he could throw every possible insult at her. The guy sure was a class act; calling a girl a prostitute and then saying she was ugly when he found out she wasn’t, as if he wasn’t planning to fuck her three seconds ago. Great logic there, Dee thought. But...some of his insults hit a little too close to home. He reminded her of how everyone around her seemed to see her. She was self conscious enough about her body already. He didn’t have to remind her she was a lanky, boney, uncoordinated skank with huge feet. But that wasn’t what bothered her most. Sure, the insults didn’t make her feel great, but the pain really set in when she realized she was alone, only partially drunk, in her apartment. She was sad, mostly sober, and bored. Her mind began to wander. 

She wasn't sure exactly what had set her off, but when she came to from her dark, drifting thoughts, she found herself sitting cross legged on her floor with the blade from a broken razor in her hand.

Sometimes Dee felt like happiness was possible for her, like it was right in front of her. But every time she was about to reach it, it slipped through her fingers. She just couldn't seem to get it right. When she went off to college she felt this intoxicating buzz of near joy for the first time. She thought she'd finally be free from the hatred of her pill head mother and the rejection from her indifferent, absent father. She was the twin who was always insulted and forgotten about. She was a mistake, a dissapointment. If Dennis had been an only child, her parents would probably happier. Maybe Frank would even stick around. Fuck them, she thought. She was going off to school and she wouldn’t have to take their shit anymore.

At 20 years old, she was finally out of her back brace. This opened up a world of opportunities. Good riddance, Aluminum Monster. Maybe she had a chance to meet friends who weren’t total outcasts. Hell, maybe she’d even find a boyfriend. The possibilities and freedom seemed endless. Instead, her college endeavors ended when she became reliant on drugs, her grades plummeted, and in a fit of rage she set her roommate on fire. So... psychology wasn’t going to work out. Hell with it. Even sleeping with her professor couldn’t save her ass. Goodbye UPenn. Who needs a college education anyway, right? She kept telling herself that, and decided to become an actress. But, without formal training, she didn’t even know where to start. She loved making her own characters, putting on costumes, and becoming someone else. It became her way of escaping. But deep down, she knew it would never work out. She was so nervous and unprepared that she barely even attempted to fulfill her dream. It wasn’t going to go anywhere, so it got pushed aside.

She thought she was happy when she and the gang first bought and opened the bar, but it was soon obvious that she had no chance of happiness there. The bar was a flop and all of her so called friends were assholes to her. To make things worse, before too long, her piece of shit dad had re-entered her life. Not that Frank was her real dad anyway.

Now it felt like the promise of happiness was completely unachievable. Dee's head felt heavy. She wanted to just forget everything. She wanted to get wasted, but she knew no matter how much she drank it wouldn’t be enough. The shitty thoughts and the loneliness still lingered. She thought about getting high, but she didn't have anything, no crack, not even any pot. She didn't know any dealers, and of course, she didn't trust anyone in the gang to hook her up. After her last time buying drugs on the street, she realized copping from complete strangers was unreliable and it was likely to get ripped off. She momentarily considered asking Cricket, but thinking about Matt just made her more depressed. She really was a fuck up, wasn't she? She flunked out of school, she ruined a man's life, she'd spent all of her life feeling terrible about herself with nothing to show except the corpse of her long abandoned dreams. She had nothing and no one. What a fucking mess.

Dee ran her thumb gently across the edge of the broken razor blade. God, she hadn't actually self harmed since high school...unless drinking and doing drugs to ignore her feelings counted. She thought back to the days of hiding cuts beneath the sleeves of her hoodies, even in the summer, to avoid being bullied more. It was bad enough to have something wrong with you physically, but having emotional problems was looked down upon even more. A girl with a back brace AND slashed wrists was like a walking target for high school bullies.

Tears trickled across her cheeks and down to her chin. Her hands were trembling. She thought back on her life and she hated everything she saw. She wanted to disappear. Would anyone even notice if one day she was just...gone? Probably not, she decided.

“Those assholes wouldn’t fucking care if I died.” She said aloud, incredibly hoarsely. The sound of her voice shocked her and she grimaced. She ran her thumb along her right wrist, tracing gentle lines where cuts once were. Dee took a deep breath, closed her eyes tight, and let the razor slide roughly against her skin, following the same lines she’d drawn out with her thumb. She inhaled sharply at the pain, but when she looked down she realized it wasn't enough. The razor left behind white welts with the occasional tiny bead of blood. She felt like she deserved more than that. She was nothing but a fuck up, and she wanted physical pain to distract herself from how shitty she felt inside. She ran the blade slowly over the welt, this time focusing more pressure on it. She winced, but dug in deeper once more before letting the razor blade fall to the floor, coated with a thin layer of blood. She squeezed at the sides of her wrist and watched the blood clot on her arm, tiny pools of scarlet. More tears flooded down her face. “Worthless piece of shit.” She mumbled to herself.

“Jesus Christ...This again?” A voice said suddenly, shocking Dee out of her spell of sadness. She was caught, but she didn’t look guilty. While this wasn’t the first time someone had noticed her doing this, she had to admit it was probably the most pathetic. 

Dennis was standing in the doorway of her bathroom, looking down and sneering at her judgmentally. “What the fuck are you doing, Sweet Dee?”

“What are you doing here?” Dee asked quietly, ignoring his question. She glared up at him defensively and attempted to hide her wrist behind her back. 

“Mac and I were about to watch a movie, then we realized we had no more popcorn. I came over here to grab some... And a bowl. Because God knows Mac won’t do the fucking dishes.” Her twin explained in a huff.   
He seemed to be ignoring the fact that he’d walked in on her slitting her wrists. Dee was torn between being relieved and getting angry.

“And, by the way, your door was unlocked. Which-not the brightest idea.” Dennis paused to glower. “Now, I see you're having some kind of uh… mental breakdown or whatever, but don't get stupid.” He grumbled as he walked towards the kitchen. “Depression is a bad look for you, sis.” He called, rummaging through her stuff. “You look like a homeless fucking junkie.”

She heard a knock on the door and groaned internally. More visitors. As always, she couldn’t have a goddamn moment alone. Loneliness seemed like heaven compared to having these assholes around.

Mac walked in, looking for Dennis. “Hey Dennis, can we just watch the movie here? That way we don't have to wash the bowl or bring it back or whatever.”

“Good idea.” Dennis nodded as he found the popcorn. He held it up, showing Mac, pleased with himself, before throwing it in the microwave.

Great, the psychopathic asshole and his wannabe boyfriend were taking over her apartment again. Goddamnit. Dee stood up and wiped her eyes with toilet paper, leaving streaks of mascara across her face. She blotted the blood off her wrist and pulled her hoodie sleeves down, just like old times.

Silently, she sulked out of her apartment and down to her car. As if her idiot guests would even notice. She didn't know where she was going, but she did know she couldn't stand one more minute with Mac and Dennis.

While she was driving, she was in a daze. She didn't realize that she'd headed towards Paddy’s until she was already parked outside. Dee sighed and went in. Might as well drink, she figured. 

She was a little shocked to see the lights were still on and the door was unlocked. At least, until she noticed that Charlie was still doing his Charlie work. He was mopping the floor with watered down bleach, and he paid no mind to the blonde as she went behind the bar to grab a bottle of cherry vodka. Normally she was a whiskey and beer drinker, but she felt like shit and wanted to change things up. She took a swig and sat down at the bar. “Jeez, it would be so easy to rob this place. “ She muttered. 

Charlie turned around, the mop fell out of his hands and onto the floor with a crash. “Jesus, you scared me, you bitch!”

She shrugged, somewhat apologetically.

“What the-You look like hell…”

Dee ignored the comment and threw back the bottle of vodka. She thought back to her college days, remembering some stupid sorority party drinking song, encouraging her to chug. Those bitches couldn’t handle their booze, but Dee could.

Charlie rested the mop against the mop bucket and decided to sit down next to her at the bar. As much as he tried to ignore it, he had a feeling Dee wasn't okay. It kept nagging on him, but he didn’t know what to do.

He looked over at her and saw that she was slumped over, and her mascara was smudged around her puffy eyes. Something was definitely wrong. 

He rarely saw Dee upset. Angry, on the other hand, he saw almost daily. That didn't bother him. In fact, it was kind of entertaining. But sad? That was uncharted territory. He almost wondered why, but then he remembered how the gang would treat her if she ever showed weakness. Had the gang broke Dee again? He felt like a dick. She was really going after that vodka. She'd already drank about a quarter of the bottle. And she only had it for a few minutes. 

The pair sat in silence, aside from Dee's sniffling and the occasional sip of vodka. 

Charlie wasn't having the best day either. He normally had a lot going on in his head, but today had been a real struggle. It was like there were a million tiny voices screaming at him. There was an alarm constantly sounding in his brain, making his ears ring. Time was passing too quickly and he was moving in slow motion. He felt wound up, and his whole body was shaking and bouncing with energy that he couldn't seem to use no matter what he did. He had worked hard at his cleaning, hoping that work or the bleach fumes would calm his nerves. But no matter what he did it felt like his chest was going to explode and there were no bones in his fingers and the world was rippling around him. It was like he was in a fishbowl and some bitch ass kid kept tapping the glass. 

Charlie looked at Dee. This time he really looked at her. She looked defeated, and a few tears had escaped, dripping onto the counter. Despite his own problems, it hurt to see her like this. He wanted to make fun of her, but then he remembered that was only because he wanted to do whatever would seem best in the eyes of his friends. Instead, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Time seemed to slow down. It was no longer him and all his thoughts with the world rushing past and around him, dragging him slowly behind it like a riptide. It was just him and Dee. Fuck what his friends might think.

Dee looked up at him through damp eyes, bewildered, then glanced down at his hand on hers. She turned her palm and laced her fingers together with his. She wasn't sure why he was being nice to her. Maybe it was all a sick joke. But, whatever, the physical contact was nice.

“Do you think I matter?” She choked. 

Charlie frowned. “I mean, I think you matter just as much as anyone else. Maybe not as much as like, Obama or whatever but as much as a normal person.”

“Is that good?” Dee asked.

“Uh...Well it's not bad.” He shrugged. 

Dee sighed. “Charlie...are you...are we friends?” She asked, weakly, avoiding eye contact. 

He looked at her for a moment, and then nodded.

“Why?”

The question confused him and caught him off guard. Why were they friends? He thought about it for a while. He thought all the way back to high school. Both of them had always been outcasts. They'd always been ridiculed, they never really had friends. Sure, she had “Fatty Magoo” and he had “Ronnie the Rat”, but looking back it seemed like they were only friends due to desperation. Even now, aside from the gang, they were alone. But the gang had grown cruel from years of ridicule of their own. They all made fun of each other to avoid being the one made fun of. Dennis was a critical maniac, and Mac followed his lead. They were especially cruel to Dee and Charlie. They were low hanging fruit. The two of them had to resort to putting each other down to divert attention from themselves.

But when they were alone, things were good.They didn't have to worry about being made fun of. They didn't have to be anything they weren't. They had the option to be themselves. Charlie wondered what things would be like if they stood up for each other.

He thought back to when he'd read Dee's diary. She’d felt like this for a long time. She'd always felt like she was alone. Between her drug addict mother, Frank's negligence, and her ever so visible health problems, it was no wonder why.

“Just forget it…” Dee muttered, her eyes welling up with tears. She pulled her hand away from his and hid her face, holding in sobs.

Charlie put his hand on her back, panicked. “Hey, wait. I was just thinking, okay?”

She peeked at him through her fingers, tears streaming down her face.

“I'm your friend, Dee. I mean, hell, you might even be my best friend.”

“Best friend?” She mused, trying to wipe away tears and snot with her hoodie sleeves to no avail. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You're pretty much the only one who's ever been nice to me. You're funny, in your own sort of way. I like hanging out with you... And I hate seeing you sad like this. You don't deserve it.” He rubbed her back.

Dee put her head down on the counter and let herself cry. 

Charlie felt anxious and awkward. He just kept rubbing her back. 

“A guy thought I was a hooker and… And I failed out of college and I-I work in this dumbass bar and noonewouldtakemetothedance.” She wailed. She was spiraling out of control. “And Dennis saw me hurt myself and he thinks I'm a big fucking loser.” After a few minutes of heavy sobs Dee finally calmed down. She propped her head up, struggling to catch her breath. “Oh God, I'm sorry. “

“...What do you mean you hurt yourself?” Charlie asked, somewhat urgently.

Suddenly, Mac and Dennis burst through the door of the bar. “‘Sup bitches?” Dennis remarked, seemingly to no one in particular. They proceeded to make their way across the bar towards Charlie and Dee. 

Mac, oblivious to the current tension between Charlie and Dee, eagerly interrupted. “Hey Charlie, there's a homeless guy face down in the dumpster, wanna go light the trash on fire to see if he’s dead?”

“Mac, I was kind of in the middle of something and I think it's kind of important-”

“Whatever losers, here's the deal. The person asleep in the dumpster? It's Frank, dumbass. More importantly, I have a bus full of hot chicks on a bachelorette party coming here to the bar and I don't need any of you messing this up! Especially you Dee, you already reek of alcohol and you look like you've been hit by a bus. What's wrong with you?...Actually I don't really care, just clean yourself up so you don’t scare anyone away.”

“Weren't you going to watch a movie?” Dee spat, annoyed that Mac and her brother had interrupted her conversation with Charlie. “Here’s an idea, why don't you and Mac go back to your own damn apartment and actually watch your stupid goddamn movie?”

“Actually, for your information, Mac managed to get the shittiest disk possible. So we can't watch our movie. Big surprise.” Dennis glared at Mac.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Mac shouted, “The guy in the parking lot said it was his best copy of the movie with extra scenes and he was only charging $3.00, how can you turn that down?! And Dennis, how did you even get these chicks to come down to the bar?” Mac asked, confused.

“Well they don't necessarily know that they are coming to this bar, all they know is that the limo driver is taking them on a bar crawl and maybe I just so happened to call in a favor with said limo driver, and voilà. Now when they arrive, I’m going to bring these chicks back to the apartment. The hot ones anyway.” He grinned maniacally. “The ugly ones...I guess they can stay here with Dee and Charlie. Once the good looking girls leave, feel free to continue being a depressed piece of shit, Dee.”

“Dude, would you leave your sister alone?” Charlie snapped, scowling at Dennis.

“Since when are you her fucking bodyguard?” Dennis laughed. “You can’t tell me you actually care about this stupid bird and her fake crying for attention.”

Mac stood behind Dennis, looking a little nervous, yet inexplicably excited, about the sudden in-group fighting.

“Honestly, whatever, Charlie. Go ahead and make her think you give a shit, I don’t care.” Dennis shrugged. “Just keep her out of the main area of the bar so we don’t have to clean up any blood later.” He muttered, looking at Dee critically.

Tears began to fill Deandra’s eyes again. As much as she wanted to defend herself, she knew there was no point.

Charlie grabbed her hand and lead her to the backroom, glaring at Dennis.

“What, are you going to go bang your little girlfriend now?” Dennis taunted, rolling his eyes. He turned to Mac and let out a disgusted gasp. “Do you seriously have a boner right now? What the fuck, man?!”

Charlie slammed the door shut behind them and let Dee sit in the office chair. “Dee…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head nervously. “What did he mean about the whole blood thing?”

Dee was still crying. She didn’t even look up at him. “Thanks for standing up for me. You didn’t have to. You can go bang chicks with Dennis. I’m okay.” She said in one big string of words, hardly making any sense over her sniffling and deep breathing.

“Dee. Be completely seriously honest with me right now.” Charlie sat down across from her and moved his chair closer to the desk. “What’s up with Dennis talking about you bleeding? Are you hurt?”

Dee laughed through her tears. “It’s so stupid.” She insisted. “Really, Charlie. I’m fine. Go get laid.”

Charlie shook his head. “If I go out there with these chicks all I’ll be able to think about is you in here hurt. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dee sighed and put her wrist on the desk. She rolled up her sleeve and revealed the deep vertical cut sprawled on her pale skin. It wasn’t bleeding or welted anymore, but it was definitely going to leave a scar. Dee’s face flushed bright pink and she quickly pulled her wrist away, ashamed. “It’s so high school, I know…” She muttered.

“What happened?” Charlie asked, oblivious. “Did Dennis do that? I swear to God I will punch him in the face, Dee. That is not okay” He fumed. “I can’t stand the way he’s treating you lately.”

“Calm down, Charlie.” Dee sighed. “I did it. I did that to myself because...I wanted to hurt so I could forget how sad and pathetic I am for a few minutes.”

Charlie stared at her in disbelief. “You did that?”

Dee nodded solemnly.

“I don’t get it.”

Dee thought for a moment. “You know how you get high on chemicals sometimes when you’re upset?”

Charlie nodded, but he was still looking at her quizzically.

“It’s kind of like that. I know I shouldn’t do it, I know it hurts me...but at the time it seems better? I guess? It’s stupid.”

“No, no. I think I get it.” 

Back at the bar, the girls were arriving. Dennis was checking them out as they walked in, mentally rating them. Most of them were incredibly wasted, as this was the last bar in the bar crawl. Everything was going according to plan. He had Mac play some trashy pop music and man the bar. It’s not like he was interested in any of the girls anyway.

“I think I know something that might help….” Charlie got up and leaned over Dee, digging through the desk. “I know it’s here somewhere….Aha!” He held up Frank’s bong and grinned.

Dee laughed, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Holy fuck, Charlie. Do you realize how many drunk girls are going to come in here if they smell weed?”

Charlie walked over and locked the door. “Problem solved.” He sat back down across from her, smiling in a very pleased-with-himself kind of way.

Dee shook her head, but then began rummaging through the desk. She grabbed a small ziplock bag and a lighter. She opened up the baggy and untwisted it. She was greeted with the familiar smell of decent pot. “Here.” She said, taking the bong from Charlie. The smell of dirty bong water mixed with the scent of greens. She began to shred the weed into smaller pieces with her fingers, apparently Frank was unfamiliar with the concept of a grinder. She packed a bowl and slid the piece back across the table. 

“No, no. Ladies first.” Charlie insisted.

Dee shrugged and grabbed the bong. Charlie had almost forgotten she was left handed until he saw her light it. Out of practice, she burned her thumb a bit, holding the lighter awkwardly and not breathing in hard enough. She finally got it lit and set the lighter down, listening to the water bubble as she sucked the smoke into her mouth. She took her finger off the carb and inhaled before passing the bong to Charlie.

She watched him take a hit, trying to hold hers in until the weed got back to her. But when she saw his attempt she laughed, releasing the smoke. “You're not doing it right.” 

Charlie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You're not inhaling right. C'mon, you've done this before. Watch me.” She took the bong and slowly and exaggeratedly took another hit. “See? You need to inhale after you bring the smoke into your mouth.” 

Charlie tried again, taking a tiny baby hit. This time he did it right.

Dee moved into the chair across the desk, next to him. Her face turned bright red. “Can I- Can we try something?” 

He nodded, despite having no idea what she was talking about.

Dee lit the bowl again, but instead of inhaling she put the bong on the desk and leaned towards Charlie. She gingerly put her lips against his, then opened her mouth to pass the smoke to him. 

His eyes opened wide, shocked. He inhaled and backed away. 

Dee grinned nervously as she watched him blow out smoke. 

“What was that?”

“Just trying to help you get high.”

Charlie was blushing, but he tried to act casual. “Thanks.”

The two of them continued smoking, normally now, until the weed was beat and the room was clouded with smoke.

Dee's eyes were red and glossy. Her mind was finally off all the depressing topics it had been stuck on earlier. Hell, she could barely remember being upset. Was it from the weed, or had Charlie actually helped her calm down?

Charlie wasn't used to weed highs. He was more of a inhalant guy. Everything felt soft and he had a huge shit eating grin he couldn't seem to wipe off his face. He glanced over at Dee, still grinning, and found his mind wandering as he looked her up and down. Despite her bloodshot eyes and smeared eyeliner, he couldn't help but think she was beautiful. Shit. Where the hell did that come from? He tried to think of something else.

Dee caught Charlie staring at her and raised an eyebrow. Did she have something on her face? She felt incredibly self conscious.

There was a knock on the office door. Both of them bolted upright.

“Why the fuck is this door locked? I swear to God if you two are banging in there….Are you guys smoking weed?” Dennis fumed.

Charlie looked at Dee, panicked, and she looked back at him. They started laughing, hard.

“Just open the goddamn door!”

Dee shrugged, stopped laughing long enough to wipe tears out of her eyes, this time either happy tears or just from dry eyes, and unlocked the door. 

Dennis barged in, scowling. “Are you two idiots seriously in here toking up like a bunch of high schoolers?”

“Calm down, man.” Charlie said.

“‘Calm down, man’? No! I will not calm down. Between you two hot boxing the office and Mac being a complete buffoon, you've scared off all the chicks.”

“Are you sure it wasn't you who scared them off?” Dee asked.

Charlie looked at her and laughed. Soon, she joined him. 

Dennis groaned. “I don't have time for this.” He stormed out of the bar with Mac trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

Dee wasn't sure when she got back to her apartment. Everything was happening in a blur. Next thing she knew, she and Charlie were sitting on the couch, so close their shoulders were touching. She felt her face heat up.

“Hey, Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for cheering me up.”


End file.
